Crash Landing
by Avoline Malfoy
Summary: He had crashed into her living room. She had crashed into his heart. RATED M FOR A REASON, PWP.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing_

* * *

 _And bunny trail. Go figure. Anyway, with all the sad and sappy one-shots I've written, I figured I'd give you guys one that was a bit more sexy._

 _And we'll start with our favorite archangel._

 _So, sit back and enjoy!_

 _Love always,_

 _Avoline_

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She sat on the couch, knitting away at a blanket with a smile on her face. He didn't know it was for him. And why should he? Despite his cocky, slightly narcissistic facade, he was truly a kind, giving person. He would rather her knit for charity than for her to knit something for him. But when she saw how well the colors complimented each other, she knew she had to knit a blanket with them for him. Sure, he'd probably tell her it would be better to donate it to a nursing home or a homeless shelter, but she knew he wouldn't refuse it.

At least, she hoped he wouldn't.

She heard the front door open, and looked up just in time to see him close it behind him. But something was off. His eyes were dark, with a predatory glint to them. She knew he enjoyed sex, but this was more primal than that. She'd only seen that look on his face once before, and that was when he thought he had lost her.

Something had shook him to the core.

"Babe, what's wrong," she inquired as she rose, setting the blanket aside. Before she could blink, he had her against a wall, his mouth crushed against hers. It startled her, but she didn't let it show. He needed this. She wasn't sure why, but once he got it out of his system, he would explain everything to her. He always did, and she felt honored that he trusted her.

"I need you," he basically growled when they broke the kiss so she could breath. "Shit, Jenna, I need you." She moaned as his lips connected with her neck.

"I'm here," she breathed, pushing his jacket from his shoulders. "I'm here. I can take it, Gabriel. I can handle it."

His hands fisted the front of her shirt and tore it down the middle. She gasped, angry at herself for wearing her favorite top.

"I'll fix it," he murmured against her skin, pushing the remnants off her shoulders to drop to the floor. "I promise. I just need this right now." She moaned again and he lightly bit the skin above her collar bone. Her fingers carded through his golden hair before tugging at the collar of his shirt.

"Off," she demanded, her arousal climbing faster than she could keep track. "Gabriel, take it off!" He pulled back far enough to slide the t-shirt over his head, and her deep blue eyes raked over his exposed chest.

The first time she had seen him shirtless, he was injured and weak. A fellow angel, one who went rogue and followed neither Castiel nor Metatron, had almost killed him with his own angel blade. He managed to fight the attacker off and get away, only to crash land in her living room. She had instantly leapt to her feet to help him, not even questioning the blue glow from the wound or how he had magically appeared in front of her. She remembered thinking that, to be in such good physical shape, he clearly wasn't much of a fighter.

That was also the day they met.

Within two short years, she had learned him inside and out. Yet the sight of his toned chest always left her breathless. In the beginning, she would always wonder why an angel would need to be in top shape. Once he finally revealed who he really was, it all made sense.

She was yanked back into reality by his mouth on her breast. She wasn't sure when he had removed her bra, but she really couldn't focus on that at the moment.

"So perfect," he whispered. "So fucking perfect. Dad knew what he was doing when he made you." His fingers tweaked her other nipple, and she arched against him. She could feel that delicious tightening in the pit of her stomach, as well as his own excitement pressing against her hip. "Got all the right curves, not too small, not too big. Just fucking right." She managed a soft laugh through the moans.

"Good thing you crashed into my living room two years ago," she breathed before groaning. He had managed to open the front of her jeans and had slid a hand in, rubbing her through her panties while his other hand tangled in her dark hair, tugging her head back.

"Good home, you're already soaked," he muttered, pressing himself against her, trapping her between him and the wall. He pulled his hand out and snapped his fingers, causing the rest of their clothes to disappear. "We can do gentle later, sugar. I promise." She nodded, not sure if her voice would work properly at this point.

Then he slammed into her, and she knew she wouldn't be able to walk for a while on top of everything.

He fit inside of her perfectly, hitting every spot just right. His breath was coming in short, ragged burst against her shoulder, and she could tell that he wouldn't last long once he started moving.

"I'm gonna apologize now," he gasped, "because I can't guarantee I'll think to later." Her arms came around his shoulders as she closed her eyes.

"It's okay," she force out. "Just get the hell on with it!"

Wrong choice of words.

She almost screamed when he began pounding into her. His grunts and moans filled her ears, a light sheen of sweat forming over her skin. The simple feel of him moving within her was enough to drive her to the edge. But then he shifted the angel of his hips, and brushed against a spot that made her cry out.

"That's it," he growled. "Scream for me. Don't hold back. Let my name be the only word coming from that wonderful mouth." She screamed again, simply because he was now intentionally ramming into that special little spot. "There we go. By the time I'm done, you'll barely be able to talk."

She was so close it was painful. But she needed more of him, more of what only he could give her, to push her over the edge.

As if reading her mind, he eased one hand from her hip to her clit.

"Cum for me, sugar," he commanded. "Scream my name."

And scream she did. The spring that had been tightening in her gut broke, sending her into orbit around some semblance of reality. Her whole body froze, and her breath lodged in her throat. As her walls clamped around him, he was also thrown into orgasm, filling her with his seed as he let out a helpless cry. His teeth sunk into her shoulder, and the sharp pain, forced her to breath again.

He fought to stay standing. He had the strength and the bulk to crush her, and God knew he didn't want that. He was already feeling guilty about how sore she would be, cause he could see the bruises on her hips and the blood tricking down her skin. He gently touched the bite wound and healed it instantly.

"You didn't have to," she panted. "I kinda liked it." He chuckled.

"I didn't," he countered. "Sorry, again."

"Don't," she ordered. "You needed it. I could tell." She gently cupped his face and turned it so that their eyes met. "Gabe, what's wrong?" He moved them to the couch, holding her in his lap, before sighing and closing his eyes.

"I was helping the Winchester boys," he began. "You'd think I'd know better by now, but those idiots wouldn't have gotten anywhere if I hadn't helped. They were trying to find some girl who went missing." He swallowed hard, fighting back the tangle of emotions. "When we finally found her, she was nothing but pieces on the floor of some abandoned warehouse. Vampires. The only thing they left intact was her head." He opened his eyes and met hers, and she felt a spear of shock at the pain in his eyes. "She looked just like you, Jenna. I nearly lost it. I thought she _was_ you." He let out a small, somewhat sad laugh. "And then you text me, and I knew you were okay. But the whole ordeal only reminded me that, one day, I'll come here, and..." He stopped, the emotions lumping in his throat.

He loved her. It was that simple, really. Every since the day she tended to him without even thinking twice, he had known that he cared about her. But she was only human, and though he could steal the grace of another angel and give it to her, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't the kind of situation anyone wanted to be in, but he was in it. And the knowledge that one day she would be gone tore him to shreds.

"Hey, look at me," she instructed, turning his face again. "We've got a good fifty some odd years before we have to worry about that. And even if we don't, you know where I'll be." He smiled at her words. "You know you'll always be able to visit me." He gripped her wrist and kissed her palm.

"I know, sugar babe," he replied softly. "Doesn't make the thought any easier. It honestly doesn't."

"Then don't think about it," she soothed, pressing her lips to his. "Just be here, with me. Don't worry too much about the future." Their lips met again in a tender, passionate kiss.

"By the way, that blanket really would be better off donated to a nursing home, honey."


End file.
